


i really dont even have a title for this JUST TAKE IT

by TheHuskyDragon



Category: Original Work
Genre: A lil bit anyway, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Anthropomorphic, Blood Kink, Breathplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Fisting, Furry, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Light Bondage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Muzzles, No Lube, Painplay, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Rape Fantasy, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Subspace, Wow, i KNOW i have chapters to update but. my ocs..., i mean their furries what do you expect, this is. embarassing. huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 12:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20564429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuskyDragon/pseuds/TheHuskyDragon
Summary: yall this was entirely written for my friends of my OC bangin'. theres like. no plot. jfcgod pls check the tags//////





	i really dont even have a title for this JUST TAKE IT

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reupload!! Everything but this is just copy and paste!
> 
> uhh!! i guess i might as well give a bit of info on these guys  
vincent is an alien griffon (gryphon??) and?? hes pruble and Big if ya know what i mean. his dicc is weird since it has like?? layers? yea idk  
gordon is a brown doge w wings. hes immortal. thats really it.
> 
>   


“There’s no use in running, Gordon.”

The growled threat sends a shudder running through the mutt as he ducked behind a chair. He’d been more-than-half-hearted trying to stay away from Vincent even though he wanted the complete opposite. 

He wanted him to take him, dominate him,  _ use him _ —

He opens his eyes and dodges his hand clawing at his wings. He’s running out of breath. And energy. Even if he isn’t using all of his strength, Gordon doesn’t think he’s put up enough fight, enraged Vincent nearly enough. 

He’s so used to him being compliant after all. 

Gordon ducks under the table, folding his wings under himself. He barely gets halfway under before he realizes it’s all in vain anyway as Vincent viciously grabs his tail and  _ yanks _ . 

Gordon can’t help but slide backward against the smooth stone and he grinds his teeth. His claws scrape against the ground. 

He bares them at the griffin, his teeth. Gordon kicks helplessly at him, his stomach, his hands until he’s pinned to the ground. He barks and snarls and thrashes, his bare tummy slipping against the linoleum. It all does nothing — Vincent is far stronger than Gordon could ever hope to be. 

And Gordon isn’t really even  _ trying _ . He’s tried so much harder at other things and no matter how much of a fight he wants to put up, he can only do so much until his body ultimately chooses what it wants to do. And his body  _ definitely  _ does not want to fight against Vincent. 

Vincent lays his body on Gordon, keeping him down as he reaches towards his mouth. Vincent grinds his hard-on against Gordon’s ass, their pants both straining. The mutt relaxes his mouth as a pleased sigh escapes him. He sees a talon inch it’s way up into his mouth, fingers pressing down on his purple tongue before he clamps his jaw down as hard as possible. 

His reward is Vincent’s yowl and the taste of alien blood. Hurting Vincent isn’t his favorite thing, but the more he defies him, the better his punishment will be. The more  _ painful  _ it will be. 

Vincent crashes his forearm over the top of his snout instead, nearly having Gordon bite his tongue clean off. With an arm over his snout and one at his back—over his shoulders, Gordon can’t do anything but wriggle hopelessly. 

Vincent has to uncover his mouth to reach down. What he ends up doing is beginning to remove his pants, angling Gordon’s hips upward and unbuckling the belt. It’s difficult even for Vincent, the unforgiving fabric of the jeans proving a better fight than Gordon, but he does it, yanks down his pants and sighs. 

Gordon feels the hardness of his erection, still clothes, and moans at it. God, he can’t wait for it to be inside of him. It’s been a good few days of nothing between them, nothing but teases and eagerness for what they planned. 

Vincent’s grasp loosens and Gordon takes his chance. He thrusts his hips up and against Vincent’s. He pushes off with all his might and jumps up and away from him, landing on all fours. 

He doesn’t have a plan. He goes for the throat, the hand that reaches up, his face, nowhere but it knocks the alien to the ground. Gordon scrambles off into a random direction still on all fours, buck naked and erection just… out. He takes a second and marvels at himself.  _ Back again like this, down and afraid and baring your teeth.  _

What an  _ animal _ . 

Vincent is seething by the time Gordon turns around. The mutt flares his wings and bares his teeth. It does nothing, of course, but he’ll still put up a fight, put one up until he’s exhausted and Vincent gets his way. 

Vincent charges for him, hands out and claws shining in the lights. Gordon thinks  _ fuck it _ and ducks under his legs. 

The dog acts upon impulse and arches his back and pulls his wings up, throwing the other off balance and onto his face. 

Gordon wheezes out a laugh, genuinely stupefied he’d bested Vincent this one time. 

When Vincent gets up and looks at him, his look of pure fury makes Gordon nearly shit himself. 

Cyan needle-thin slits of irises and wide open eyes, the corners of his beak pulled down into a scowl. Gordon can see the edges of his teeth and the tips of his beak and tusks shine like knives in the low light. His chest is heaving, muscles straining under skin as he holds back from tearing Gordon a new one. 

Gordon was frozen on the spot a moment too long and finds himself pinned to the floor again, on his stomach. They writhe together on the floor until Vincent gets Gordon’s wings down and folded around him. Vincent locks his own arms in front of Gordon, not letting his upper body move too much and he waddles them to where ever he’s taking them. 

Gordon hasn’t eaten in… a few days and the lack of nutrition is definitely showing. That is if his pronounced ribs and the bumps in his spine weren’t clear enough. He almost wishes that he’d eaten, just so he could fight longer. 

They cross through a doorway, well, were going to until Gordon fruitlessly sticks his legs out and tries to grab onto one side. He gets some kind of purchase and pushes as much as he can in this angle. Vincent stumbles but doesn’t let him go. 

The breath’s knocked out of Gordon when they flop down on the bed, on his stomach again. Vincent’s full weight falling down on him. Gordon sputters for a moment, instincts torn between gasping or sighing at feeling Vincent’s erection against his bare ass. He didn’t get the chance to prep himself but he doubts either of them will care, he can always heal back up anyway. 

He nearly opens his mouth to howl, to beg, to do  _ something  _ but there’s a hand carefully holding it closed. Before he can wriggle free, a fabric muzzle that snuggly wraps itself around his snout is put in place. It’s buckled behind his head and under his jaw. He can’t open his mouth at all.  _ Perfect _ . 

He realizes his arms and wings are free, in fact, Vincent isn’t even on him. He turns onto his back and finds the large male rummaging through their toys, finding what’s best to torment Gordon with. 

Gordon doesn’t bother with the muzzle, doesn’t want it off in the first place. When Vincent turns around, he has various cuts of rope in his talons. He doesn’t bat an eye even as Gordon pointlessly kicks and thrashes against him. The muzzle only leaves his nose open and soon he’s huffing in and out air, lungs burning. 

Vincent’s able to tangle some rope around his wrists and yank his own hands apart, pulling the rope tight. Gordon yanks and pulls but somehow Vincent got it just right to where he can’t get—  _ free _ . 

Anger and fear flash through him, heart hammering in his chest. 

Before strong, large hands come down on his chest, stilling it for long enough for Gordon to get his shit together. 

They make eye contact and still. He’s  _ fine _ . 

He yanks his hands again, finds them knotted to the headboard. _ When did that happen _ ? He doesn’t get to think about it further before a fist come crashing down on his stomach, if he had eaten anything recently, it would’ve all been lost. He gags on nothing and shudders. 

His abdominal muscles ache when he heaved out what could be called the last of his fight. Vincent uses his chance and ties his legs together too, at the ankles, letting his legs still move just… not that much. 

Gordon’s eyes are half-lidded and so are Vincent’s. Vincent’s fur and feathers shine like silk in the low light. Gordon feels like he’s in a daze and tries to open his mouth and move but he finds himself oddly immobile. His wings fan out a bit and he just kinda… slumps. 

Vincent rolls him onto his knees and his arms almost twist awkwardly. His ass is on display towards Vincent and his prying eyes. He feels Vincent’s sharp claws on him, trailing all over his body and digging in in choice places and not a moment later does painful warmth follow. Down his back, his flanks, on his ass and thighs. 

He feels something drip, a trickle between clumps of his fur. It takes a moment for him to realize that its blood,  _ his  _ blood that’s weaving its way through his fur, dripping to collect in the sheets. The realization sends a shock of lust through him, causing him to gasp out through his nose. 

Vincent’s right behind him, hovering over him and his beak is next to his face. He can’t see clearly that far behind him but he feels the hook of his beak dig into his shoulder and pull the flesh away.

Gordon grinds his teeth against the flowing blood. He can smell it so much that he nearly tastes it. He turns his head into his upper arm. 

A sob — or something similar — rips through his throat and ends on a moan. His eyelids flutter and he sags further into the mattress. He already feels the sticky warmth of his blood below him and Vincent behind him. Gordon’s tail wags. Maybe. He can’t really… tell. 

He feels Vincent muzzle and knead his ass before fingers start messing around at his hole. Vincent isn’t really doing much but just fidgeting with it, as if he doesn’t really know where to start or what to do. 

Vincent sits up and Gordon can feel the tip of Vincent’s leaking cock press against him. 

A scream rips through his throat and out his closed mouth as Vincent presses in and  _ doesn’t stop  _ until he’s hilted. 

Vincent hips still, but just barely. Gordon’s lower body both seizes up and twitches around him. He digs his nose and forehead into the sheets and groans. Mumbling something that could be called the alien’s name between his teeth. 

Vincent gives him little time to gather himself before pulling out. The —  _ layers  _ of his cock pull at his rim. Vincent must have torn him because he can feel sparks of pain zap through his pelvis, his legs. The fullness of his cock makes his stomach churn and ache. 

Vincent puts a hand on his back and angles his ass further upward before beginning to  _ plow  _ into his ass. The rhythmic sounds of their hips connecting and Gordon’s little whimpers and Vincent’s own noises quickly fill the air. Vincent moves to sit upward a bit more and grabs the base of his tail, using it to yank his ass down onto his dick. Gordon feels the tip of his cock barely brush against his prostate and his entire body shakes. Raw waves of pleasure coursing through his body, his own dick leaking profusely. 

“You look so  _ pretty _ ,” Vincent growls out. He sound so predatory, “blood all over your body—“ Gordon can feel him lean back a bit, “— _ on your hole _ .”

Vincent flairs the—the spikes and Gordon lets out another loud, feral noise at the pain. He tries to angle his hips away from Vincent’s own but his iron grip on his tail has his thighs straining against the sheets. He hides his wet eyes under his forearm and lets out another sob, nose leaking. 

“Don’t be shy, my Dear.”

Vincent leans back over him and grabs the straps of the muzzle. Unfortunately, the fur on the back of Gordon’s hiss is too short to get a proper hold of.  _ Damn _ . 

“Do not hide your pretty face from me, Dear. Do you understand?”

When Gordon does not reply, Vincent connects their hips harshly, cock jamming into him.

“ _ Do you understand _ !?”

Gordon nods as best as he can, his eyelids fluttering against the pleasure. Both from getting Vincent’s cock into him and just getting dominated. It’s been too damn long since they’ve done something like this and—

Vincent digs his claws between Gordon’s ribs, slicing away at the flesh until Gordon swears he reaches bone. It hurts so  _ bad  _ and whatever relaxed state he’s in makes the feeling radiate out in waves through his entire body, eyes unfocusing further in the low light. 

Vincent pulls an edge of the wound down and splits it open further. His fingers slip against the blood and his claws hook on the edges of his skin. He wants to curl into himself so badly but their current position does not allow that possible. He feels his skin tear.

Gordon’s back to trying to wriggle. Whether it’s him trying to get away from Vincent, or trying to get out of his restraints, it doesn’t really work. At  _ all _ . He soon finds himself even more exhausted and tired but the hard cock in his ass is sending white-hot pleasure through him.

His ass is turning a bit numb. The rhythmic slaps of Vincent’s hips against his own and the details on his cock are sending mixed of pain and pleasure. Every other thrust sends the tip stabbing onto his prostate. The intense waves send his mind reeling and his eyes rolling back. 

Vincent changes his angle and suddenly it’s all he can feel. His cry out turns nearly into a scream. He feels his orgasm building fast—  _ too  _ fast. Out of habit, he tries to warm Vincent but the muzzle and the pleasure gets in the _ damn way _ —

Vincent yanks his cock out. For a moment all Gordon can hear is their collective panting and blood rushing in his ears. He still feels incredibly close to coming but, with no stimulation, he’s unable to. 

Vincent scoffs, “you aren’t allowed to have fun, pet.”

_ Pet _ . Vincent has a fair assortment of pet names he uses and they all depend on his mood. Gordon feels…  _ objectified _ , feels like he’s only met for Vincent’s pleasure. 

Vincent leans down and immediately inserts… three? Three fingers. Gordon’s dick twitches against his stomach at the stretch. Vincent’s hand isn’t small so three fingers even is a slight stretch.  _ Nothing he can’t handle though _ .

Vincent hums in his throat, thoughtfully. 

Then he stands up, walking far past where he can see him. Within moments he returns but remains behind him. He then feels something slide onto his dripping dick. It’s stopped by the knot of his cock.

Vincent gives it a soft flick that makes him flinch. “There,” he says, “now I can have as much fun as I want.”

It was a cockring.  _ Goddamnit _ . 

The fingers return, this time four. Maybe. There’s so many different sensations floating around in his mind. The pain from all his scratches, ebbing every time his chest moves. 

Vincent splays his fingers out before taking his other hand and inserting two more. Gordon can feel where Vincent tore him in earnest now. He feels him lick at the oozing blood.  _ That  _ sends a sharp shiver through the mutt’s entire body, Vincent tasting  _ his  _ blood that he caused to spill. 

Suddenly, Vincent takes his extra fingers out and instead, presses his  _ entire hand into him. _

His hole closes around the wrist and Gordon feels impossibly close to coming even with the cock ring on. It hurts so  _ bad  _ but feels  _ so damn good _ . Vincent keeps still until his body sags. Gordon’s bemoaning our constantly, letting out these breathy little sounds at each thrum of the pleasure and pain he feels. 

Vincent doesn’t hold still for as long and begins to force more of his damn arm into him. It’s— he’s not even going that fast but  _ god _ , is it  _ intense _ . 

He didn’t even realize the animalistic noise he’d been letting out. He’s breathless when he stops and it feels like the muzzle is personally trying to choke him. It feels as though the  _ cockring  _ is trying to choke his cock. 

He really shouldn’t be surprised when Vincent’s fingers glance over his prostate. He jerks in his bonds and yelps, eyes rolling in their sockets. Vincent refuses to let up. He presses further inward and down and Gordon can do nothing about the orgasm that rolls over him. His dick barely oozes but his thighs shake regardless. His eyes roll back until he closes them, just to snap them open again when Vincent starts thrusting his arm, hole stretching at the size. 

Gordon kicks fruitlessly at the feelings, trying so damn hard to make it all stop, to get more, he doesn’t  _ know _ . The feeling is torture and rewarding all mixed together. 

His head thumps onto the sheets when Vincent mercifully eases his hand out, not before thrusting it in back a few times. Gordon groans when he doesn’t stop though, from wrist to mid-forearm he slowly glides his fist in and out of him. Gordon can smell the blood in the air, just barely. 

Gordon can feel the stretch of his forearm, his elbow and it  _ hurts _ . To suddenly get penetrated like this after nothing for days. But it feels so damn  _ good  _ at the same time. The stretch, the  _ pain _ ,  _ the fullness _ . 

He’s so sensitive from coming untouched. Vincent’s constant movement, the constant friction against his hole does absolutely nothing to lessen it. The afterglow’s pleasure soon turns to torment pain, something near agonizing but he  _ still  _ doesn’t want it to stop. Vincent rolls his knuckles over _ that spot _ again and he sees stars behind his eyelids.  _ When had he closed them?  _

Gordon’s hands clench as he tugs on his restraints. He blinks profusely at the tears that soon overflow. He hiccups out noises as Vincent continues to ruin his hole. 

It feels like an eternity passes until he stops. Gordon feels like he’s on the edge of another orgasm so soon. Vincent trails the back of his claw against his cock and he jerks in place. He feels the cockring slide wetly off. 

Vincent pushes him flat on his stomach. Gordon’s wings lazily spread out over him. Vincent takes his time sliding his cock back into him. Even after having half of Vincent’s damn arm in him, he isn’t too stretched out. Vincent lays his entire weight on him then reaches up and tears through the rope around his wrists. 

“I want to feel you struggle against me,”

He places a hand over his nose, blocking his airway. 

Vincent gives him no warm up before slamming his hips down onto Gordon. He never slows his brutal pace and soon Gordon is clawing at Vincent’s arms to let him  _ breathe _ . He can’t— _ fucking breath— _

His cock rubs torturously against the sheets, body pressed flat against them. His lungs burn at the need for oxygen. His dull claws do nothing against Vincent’s plated forearms. His balls and cock ache with the need to come. 

Gordon comes.  _ Again _ . His back arches and his legs and arms and entire body shakes between Vincent and the mattress. Just like his last one, Vincent refuses to stop. He fucking  _ increases  _ his pace, plowing hard into the mutt as he writhes and claws and cries out—

His eyes roll back at all the sensations and lack of oxygen. He thanks whatever god there is when he feels Vincent chilling cum I some of him. The feeling always washes any other and send his insides feeling like they’re freezing over. Vincent stops. 

But he doesn’t pull out. 

“What,” he says, “you think I’m done with your tight ass?”

Oh god oh god  _ oh god _ —

The thrusts start up again. Gordon doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, it’s so much— it’s too much. Vincent’s cock, the way as the  _ layers  _ pull at his rim, dig into his insides. 

Vincent takes his free hand and, after detangling it from Gordon’s own, rakes them down his sides. It’s not deep enough to spill anything but blood, but  _ Christ  _ does it just add to the plethora of existing sensations, coupled with the attention to his oversensitive prostate. 

Gordon thrusts his aching cock into the sheets as he’s hit with another orgasm. He tries moving his head, his body,  _ anything _ , but with Vincent over him, he’s pressed still. His cock tries in vain to do anything more than just a few measly spurts. He sobs when raw waves of pain and pleasure and anything between crash over him. 

He feels his consciousness slip. 

He closes his eyes. 

* * *

When he awakes, many of his wounds are already healed and Vincent has his arm over him. Gordon is on his back with a wing under the elder. 

“Was that good dear?” Vincent asks. 

Gordon doesn’t think he’s able to talk, instead, he rolls over and squeezes Vincent and nods. Very. 

He hums, the feeling reverberating in his chest, “I’m glad you enjoyed. I enjoyed quite much myself. You did so well.“

If Gordon was a cat, he’s sure he’d be purring, snuggled up against Vincent’s chest, in his arms. This is nice.

Maybe they’ll do it again sometime. 

  
  


  


**Author's Note:**

> ksdjfksjdha if you see me irl feel free to either kill me on sight or Completely Ignore this thanks. i k n o w that my dbh fic needs to be updated but im busy gotdam it. i can only do somany things at a time
> 
> if for what ever reason you liked this and rad the entire thing uhh. leave a kudos and a comment or two huh? thatd be nice. time to f l i n g myself into the sun. bye
> 
>   



End file.
